Slaying in Sunnydale After Prison

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I mean no copyright infringement upon him or Mutant Enemy.

Publishing/Distribution/WhatHaveYou: Please don't publish my fiction without permission.

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She's changed so much.

I used to look at her and see so blatantly, the complete and obvious reflection of someone entirely opposite from myself. Someone so perfect and just plain good, to the point of it all being irritating. Now I look at her and her eyes don’t reflect the way they used to, they’re darker, more like mine. Her comments are still cute and sarcastic, only she snaps them eagerly like insults... the way I do.

Part of me feels so responsible, I know that I destroyed her life and took the people that she loved dearly away from her, something that can never be undone. Taking my small steps towards admitting how wrong I was seems like nothing compared to what she's gone through in forgiving me. I find it nearly impossible to imagine that she ever did... but now it's to the point that we've agreed to put the Mayor and every other aspect of "psycho slayer Faith" behind us both in order to spend time together and try to be what we never succeeded at becoming: Friends.

So I guess I should stop focusing on how different she is, and just enjoy this chance to be by her side pretending like nothing ever happened, and we are the two flawless slayers, moving in ballet-like synchronization.

God, prison must have taken its toll on me. Since when do I compare slaying to something as irritating as ballet? Trying to ignore this fleeting thought as well, I focus on the graveyard around us, searching through hazy clouds of mist and fog for anything moving ahead of us.

Suddenly a slender man’s figure dressed in a thick-collared silver shirt that glitters in the moonlight jumps out from behind a tombe. He. He's holding something metallic in his right hand that stays at his side. I don't need to even contemplate it to know he's carrying a pistol, the size of the object makes it obvious, and I've seen plenty of fast-moving handguns in my time. However this bleached-blonde (Spike envy, perhaps?) doesn't even know how large of a mistake he just made as the bouncy ex-cheerleader beside me meets her heel his his game faced jaw, the roundhouse kick sending his firearm flying in the process as well. I just stand there with my little smile, ready for action, but admiring her all the while. Yep, me and B kickin' Vampire ass... just like old times.

The vampire was knocked to his side by the kick, which had appeared to take him by surprise. Buffy chambered into another fighting stance, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she jumped from each one of her original action poses to the next. It was so entertaining to watch, I started to wonder if I would actually throw any stakes at all before the night ended. Maybe I should have brought a camera.

"That one caught you off-guard." Buffy said; her fists raised tightly, "What a surprise, right? You didn't expect any action?" He began to rise off the ground to spring forward, but was caught by the presence of that same heel once again, this time directly into his rib-cage, and the toe of her black boots had lodged itself into his sternum as far as I could see. There was a definitive snapping sound at contact, followed by a second (maybe even a third) snap as his body crashed firmly into a tombstone.

"After all, we are only slayers. Why would we fight back? One little bite and it's over... isn't that the way it always works with slayers?" She continued, finishing off her punning commentary to the shaken vamp.

"Looks like you've got this under control." I speculated aloud, folding my arms and leaning against the thick oak tree I had been standing under, watching her, for several minutes now.

Buffy turned to glance at me, making sure that I took note of the glare she flashed before flinging a stake carelessly to her side. Our disco-loving friend was dust on impact, it had been yet another one of her perfect shots… one more card in her deck of perfect talents, attributes, qualities… all those things that I’ve never had. Now she added a one-up to me with the staking, so I immediately decided then and there that I wouldn’t be sitting back to watch for the rest of the night. I was about to show little Buffy that prison hadn’t softened me in the slightest.

“Maybe you should have brought some popcorn.” Buffy replied sharply while examining her navy blue skirt for dust. Funny how a girl who could have just moments ago had her head ripped off by an undead nearly-demon blood drinker is only worried about whether or not she’s ‘gotten dirty’. Still, I had to take note that the tight-mini-skirt-up-to-the-ass look was rather complimenting on B, and the white dress shirt had been an amusing touch to complete the outfit, since she knew damn well we’d be slaying tonight. I had opted for my most casual black cargo pants and a simple t-shirt. You know, the sort of thing that you don’t fall out of whenever you try to kick anyone in the jaw… or walk… or possibly read a book. B had it down to an art, so much that I almost didn’t notice when she was creeping around tombstones and crescent shaped dimples suddenly caught my eye before I allowed my mind to acknowledge just how much of B’s sexy ass was poking out. Note that I said ALMOST.

But she always got covered in dust at some point through out the night, and every single time she seemed incredibly annoyed and shocked, as if she had been so certain that her shirt would stay crisp and clean for once. This would be when she would blame me for it… and how can I help it if the vampire I staked just so happened to fight me for ten or fifteen minutes before we gradually moved to a place that was near Buffy… it was just coincidence… not like I really wanted her to get dirty in hopes that she would take off her clothes then and there to shake them out or anything. No, only lesbians have fantasies like that… and I’m not a lesbian. I just like sex. Lots of sex. With people in general.

And the sight of Buffy meticulously wiping away each and every particle of dust from her skirt, focusing on her hips and ass, makes it a lot more difficult to ignore that thought of liking sex. She caught me staring, but I didn’t do anything about it, just flashed her a grin. After all, B is way too naïve to figure out exactly why I was staring at her, and why I’ve ALWAYS stared at her. She obviously knows how hot she is (maybe she knows it too much sometimes), but the realization that GIRLS would also find her attractive has definitely never crossed her mind, it’s crystal clear by the way she talks and the way she treats me. Not to mention Red, who would probably freely chop off the fingers of her right hand if it meant getting a few on the left into Buffy for a night… and look at the way B treats her. A couple of sleepovers and that stupid “I’m so glad we’re friends, night Willow!” line, maybe after a pillowfight, so that my little blonde partner in slaying can doze off to her dreams of being fucked by undead males.

Now she does the same thing with me. Now that everything is in the past and we’re “friends”, I’m sure the slumber party is coming up in the not-so-distant future, and we’ll watch Roman Holiday after sticking a batch of inventive cookie dough into the oven. Of course I would rather show her how it feels to be given an orgasm by the living (Riley doesn’t count, he’s too boring to be alive), but if I were to touch B any way outside of a hug she’d probably either run or kick me. And what would be the point in that? No, it’s much more productive to continue on with our sexual innuendos that she probably takes with all the wrong meaning, and to watch her while she slays, and to hope that some kind of phenomenon comes into play where we are trapped in a boat or other confined space and if she doesn’t have sex within 24 hours she will spontaneously combust.

I looked in some of the library books to see if this sort of thing has ever happened… no reports but Giles has plenty of other books so it’s not over just yet.

”Faith? Wow… dreaming much?”

Buffy’s voice snaps me back to the cemetery, and I realize I had been pretty much lost in tht. It. It had started with her skirt and then… oh yeah, I remember what came next. I clear my throat and try not to turn red. “Sorry, just, uhm… I’d seen that vamp before. It kind of creeped me out, that’s all.” Some people would say that because I’m still a filthy liar, I’m still a bad evil Faith. I personally think I am doing more good by lying, especially in this particular situation. What, am I just supposed to say “Yeah B, dreaming about you naked and sweating underneath me in the middle of this cemetery”?

“Well now we won’t be seeing him again, apparently. A lot of help you were.” She began to walk away, throwing her hands in the air in dramatic frustration with me.

I laughed, and called out after her. “Oh don’t worry B, I’ll be taking care of matters on my end just as soon as we see a little more action. I might even have to save your sorry-excuse-for-a-slayer ass a couple of times.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Her body was quickly disappearing into the mist ahead of me, so I ran forward to catch up, not wanting to lose sight of her now.

My arms remained tense, my eyes darting to check behind every single bush, tree, sto stone in efforts to discover any possible Vampire before they sprung into attack, but there wasn’t much to see.

“Been slow tonight.” I speculated aloud, turning to see if we were being followed. Of course, we weren’t. If I didn’t know any better I would say that even the worms in Sunnydale were on a prolonged vacation from the looks of things.

“It’s been slow every night, Faith. Why do you think I haven’t been here in three days?”

“Oh, is that it?” I said, letting the sarcasm flow smoothly. It was, after all, second nature to me. “I figured you must be lazy.”

“No I just didn’t want to be around you.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, my smile instantly fading completely. The words had hit me so hard that for a second I couldn’t grasp whether I was about to lash out with anger or tears. The sensation of something wrapping around my neck and choking me was quickly forced into the back of my mind as I tried to maintain an image of indifference. But it’s impossible for me to hide anything from Buffy, we can feel each other from continents away… the connection is indubitably strong when we stand two feet apart from one another.

B stopped walking and I heard her let out a sigh of agitation. For a moment I didn’t quite know how to read it, but as she turned towards me her apologies had already been spoken a thousand times through the look in her soft green eyes. “I’m sorry Faith,” she said, speaking in a whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to say that. I just… oh god, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no problem.” I replied in my absolute best voice of indifference. “Don’t get all worked up about it.”

That was when it happened – she moved towards me, reaching out her soft hand and gently brushing over my arm. It felt like a million sensations all rolled into one, while simultaneously more emotions stirred within me than I knew how to comprehend. I wanted her, yet I hated her, and I loved her, and wanted to kick her in the face… and most of all I wanted to kiss her.

She might have noticed a strange look in my eyes because something made her pull away once more, leaving her hand still awkwardly out in front of her as if she were waiting for some kind of cue that would allow her to begin touching me once more.

After I killed Alan Finch, there was an immediate point where I forced all thoughts out of my mind completely if they made me feel guilty or reserved in any way. Most people would not consider this an attribute, but I, on the other hand, feel that I have created a skill (talent, if you will), that is useful in all stages of life as long as I opt not to abuse it. I chose to use it now. Pushing away everything that told me I shouldn’t and shrugging past all my knowledge of certain rejection, I leaned in quickly, my hands sliding around her waist to hold her close as our lips met roughly. Her hand that had been touching my arm a moment before was now wedged between our bodies, pressed up against my chest as I tried to find a rhythm in our kiss, but she was unresponsive.

Frustrated, I pulled away and looked to her eyes for some kind of confirmation, but I didn’t find any.

“Wow… Faith… I-”

“Forget it B, just wanted to see what it was like. You know, what all these deadboys are lining up for. Turns out it isn’t much.” I flashed her my widest grin, hoping it was more silly than bitchy, but no part of me felt like being silly at that moment. That knowledge of certain rejection? It’s not so hard to push it out of your head when it’s staring you right in the fucking face. I turned my back to her and began to walk out of the cemetery, my steps expertly silent without even trying; I had become so accustomed to sneaking up on every vamp in Southern California. She hadn’t mastered it quite so well because I could hear her following reluctantly every step of the way. But I never turned around, and she never asked me too. Thank god, because I would have hated it if she had seen the tear trailing down my cheek.